


Shatter Me With Hope

by most_valuable_locket



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Multi, season 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 13:49:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1650854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/most_valuable_locket/pseuds/most_valuable_locket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Sammy isn’t Dean’s brother, John dies because of a crossroad deal and Dean is just glad there’s someone he can talk to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of just a prologue but not really...  
> This is my first time writing Supernatural fanfic, so I'm not used to writing Sam and Dean yet :s hopefully it won't be too horrible to read

It all began when Sam was about one year old... A stray dog Dean had begged their father to keep while they were in town and John had reluctantly allowed it while he was solving a case. It was a small dog, barely bigger than Sammy.  Dean had been cooking a can of spaghetti for himself and his brother, the young boy mastering the stove while still so young. His back was turned when Sam had crawled over to the sleeping dog. It was lying on a cushion when little Sammy wrapped small fingers around the dog’s throat and tightened his grasp. The dog woke instantly and began to whine and claw for release, scratching the one year old, but Sam didn’t react, determined to strangle the stray. Dean didn’t hear it until it was too late, he just thought Sammy was being a baby again – pulling at the dogs tail or ears, annoying it so it yelps and growls at him. He dropped the pot to the floor, hot sauce and spaghetti splashing onto the tiles. What he witnessed was worse than a dog being strangled. Sam was stuffing jagged toys – little plastic soldiers and the like – down the poor mutt’s mouth. He forced it further and further, until the toys were spilling from its mouth and blood coated his tiny hands.

Their dad wouldn’t be home for another day, so Dean does what he’s always being told to do: be a good brother, protect Sammy. He puts the dogs body into a plastic bag and heaves it out to the large dumpster a few rooms down. He can’t get it into the bin so he leaves it behind it, tears running down his eyes because he really liked the dog. It was the first pet they ever had and Sam had killed it... But dad couldn’t know about it. So when John returned the next day and queried the mutt’s whereabouts Dean lied, saying it ran away; the sadness was too real for John to realize his boy was lying.

Dean never told on Sammy.

-

Sam was different. Sometimes he was almost feral in how he acted, biting and scratching at his father, Dean and Uncle Bobby. He’d break things and cut himself, finger-painting with his own blood.  John wanted to brush it off as post-traumatic-stress, his young mind remembering the flames of his mother above his head, the demon that had attacked them. However as time went on it was obvious there was something seriously wrong with the boy. Both John and Dean had walked in on Sammy with a knife or gun and some poor animal being sliced and diced and shot at.

-

Dean was special sometimes. When no one else could calm Sam down, somehow Dean could. It would always end with Sammy dragging him off into a room and locking the door, just lying on the bed, couch or floor wrapped in his big brother arms.

-

John can’t control Sam anymore. He knows there’s something seriously wrong and it goes far beyond what he or Bobby – any hunter – could’ve imagined. Sam was a demon.  Or at least, part demon. Dean was in trouble, a demon that ate first born son’s was about to feast on him, Sammy freaked and the demon was filleted in front of them. John was against a pile of broken furniture, bleeding from his side and a possible concussion ringing through his head. He didn’t know what to do, other than bolt to Dean and pull him away from Sam. Whatever the boy was, he wasn’t John’s son.

It occurred more than just that once. And it wasn’t just on demons threatening his family; eventually Sam used his powers to _save_ the demons they were hunting. John was battered and bruised by his own son, to save blood thirsty demons that had no soul.

_But despite that fact, John couldn’t bring himself to kill Sam._

He went about pretending it was okay, the next case he lied to them, saying he’d be done in a couple days when it only took one. John sent Dean out on a food run before he left, and while Sam believed he was just going to be alone for half an hour tops, what actually happened was John picked Dean up and left. He lied to Dean, telling him Bobby would pick Sam up and they’d meet at his house.

There was a spell, one that would rid Dean’s mind of Sam and John knew it was necessary. Dean shouldn’t have to live this life knowing his only brother is a demon, something he may one day have to face and kill and John knew that if Dean had that restriction, that obligation, blood would falter him. And then Sam would kill him…


	2. One

He stands alone in the darkened clearing. The lit torch was tossed onto the pyre as it was quickly consumed by flame. He shouldn’t have been the only one to mourn his father, but then again, they were in a remote town, far from anyone who cared about them – even Bobby couldn’t make it. _At least it’s a hunters funeral, like dad wanted,_ Dean thought, staring at the pyre, at his father’s lifeless body burning to ash.

He wanted to scream, cry, curse his father for what he did.

He saw it, even if John hadn't. The demon that he had made a deal with lip-locked to seal the deal. Tessa – the reaper who had been sent to take Dean’s soul – possessed by Yellow Eyes and brought him back from near death. The cost was too much. But whenever Dean brought it up, John told him adamantly it was the best they could get, and it wasn’t the worst. He had one year of his life left before he would be hunted down by hellhounds.

John wouldn’t even get to see Mary, Dean’s mother, unless she had been sent to hell when she died in the fire.

Now he was all alone. Bobby was the closest thing to family Dean had, but Bobby wasn’t blood. Not really.

But he wasn’t alone.

A darkened figure had emerged from behind one of the tall pines in the woods. Dean’s back was to him, and his movements were silent. If he didn’t want to be seen or heard he wouldn’t. And if per chance Dean did see him, if humanity got the best of him and he let himself slip into visibility, all Dean would see is what he wants to see. Probably a demon. Maybe Mary. It doesn’t matter who, though.

 

-

 

Beer wasn’t strong enough, whiskey didn’t take away quick enough, martinis were a girls drink and tequila reminded him of dad. He’d gone to the most alcoholic drink they had on shelf - almost wanting straight Bitters just for the content. The most alcoholic thing they had was Black Absinthe. Tasted like crap but it helped. Focusing on keeping the drink down kept away the unhappy thoughts. Not that there were many happy thoughts left in Dean’s mind.

Dean hardly noticed when someone slid into the seat one down from him, but he did feel the eyes on him, like a chill that would come and go with each ‘subtle’ glance the man laid on him. By this point Dean was maybe tipsy from the absinthe, a fools move to reach for the knife he kept on him, but then the man spoke, lax

“Rough day?” he pointed to the bottle of absinthe, almost directly in front of Dean.

Rough life,” Dean said, laughing short and dry before sculling his current glass and gesturing for the bartender to fill it up again.

“You know, if you want to drown your sorrows that quickly, I know a mixer drink that’ll get you wasted pretty fast..”

“Mixed drinks are for chicks.”

“Not this one,” the man got the bartenders attention and called him over, “we’ll get two Bastard On The Beaches,” he said, a succinct thank you thrown in at the end when she raised an eyebrow at Dean and the amount of absinthe she’d poured him already. She blinked any doubts of the customers alcohol level away and began making the drinks. 

“Name’s Sam, by the way,”

“Dean,” Sam held his hand out for Dean to shake, rasping it firmly before returning to watch the bartender finish the first shot.

The drink consisted of four shots per Bastard on the Beach.

The first they down easily, the second has Dean asking for water, and by the time Sam coerces him into the third shot, he doesn’t make it to the fourth – Sam doesn’t let him. Feigning drunk, Dean’s Mai Tai is ‘accidentally’ knocked over. He’s offered water instead, but really Dean is too out of it with all the alcohol he’d consumed in a whole. Sam leaves a hefty tip for the bartender before helping Dean out of his seat.

“You got a place you to stay, Dean?” he asked as he tried to keep him from falling over feet.

But Dean was completely out of it, stumbling over words. Sam was almost surprised as he hauled the older man over to his car.

“What the hell are you doing?” came a voice from the dark. Sam groaned, rolling his eyes as he turned to watch the demon step into the light. “We agreed you wouldn’t interfere!” She glared, eyes cast down on the hunters unconscious form.

“You said, I didn’t agree,” Sam told her as he hoisted Dean back up for a better grip before getting his keys and unlocking the car. He was ever so careful and gentle in sliding the man into the backseat, laying him down onto his side so there’s no chance of him choking on his own sick – if he was.

“I can’t believe you would actually interfere with this. Daddy Winchester is in hell now, Sam, isn’t that enough? It’s what you wanted,”

“He isn’t the only one I want, Ruby.” Sam said,  “and what would’ve happened if he was left at the bar drunk or passed out?”

“He’d wake up in a cell at least knowing he’d gotten what he wanted. What do you think he’ll do when he wakes up in some strangers place? He’ll assume you’re a demon and you’ll have ruined everything.”

“He won’t.”

“I’ve watched him just as long as you have, Sam – longer. Do you really believe he’ll think you’re some chivalrous human who just wanted to help? He’s a hunter. He’ll gut you before you have the chance to find some crap excuse.”

“Ruby—”

“We had a plan. Dean Winchester was not a part of it. _Not yet.”_

“He doesn’t have to be now either. I just wanted to help him.”

“He will hear about _it_ , he will remember you. He’ll hunt you like a demon.”

“Fine, Ruby,” Sam snapped, “’I’ll make him forget, he doesn’t have to know,” it was a lie. He didn’t want Dean forgetting him again, and it would be easy enough to stop Dean if Ruby turned out right. Sam did not appreciate that she doubted his powers, and if it wasn’t for her loyalty throughout the years he would have left her for the hounds long ago.

“He better not. We’ve worked so hard to make this happen, don’t let him ruin it.”

Sam rolls his eyes and slips into the car. Ruby doesn’t follow, and she wasn’t invited to as Sam started the car and drove off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping I wrote Sam and Ruby okay? You as the reader can be the judge of it. I'll be working on making the chapters longer. First one's never turn out well for me..


End file.
